


Susurrations

by MapToWhereIAlreadyAm



Series: Maybe. Perhaps. Possibly [1]
Category: Star Wars: A New Dawn - John Jackson Miller, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Porn, Pre-Star Wars: Rebels, UST, post-A New Dawn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:40:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8225590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapToWhereIAlreadyAm/pseuds/MapToWhereIAlreadyAm
Summary: A day with Kanan,  a recurring dream, and a holovid get all mixed up in Hera’s head.Or "how Captain Hera Syndulla came to realize she had a thing for Kanan Jarrus."Set several months post-A New Dawn, pre-Star Wars: Rebels





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to HLine for beta reading!

Kanan was lying on the floor, his chest bared to Hera, while she worked on him. Biting her lip, she forced back her tears. If she could only get this to work…

 

But control kept slipping from her grasp.

 

Hera knew she was dreaming. It was following a familiar pattern, after all. It had been over a day without sleep, so it was no surprise that when she finally laid down, she drifted off immediately into a lucid recurring dream. Yet the ability to influence the direction of it was still elusive. That was frustrating.

 

Some details were different in this version of the dream. Kanan, for one, was a new player, yet for all that his role was familiar. The 9-year-old Hera was trying to replace Kanan's motivator, which apparently resided in a human’s solar plexus. The details got a bit hazy at that point. It was a dream after all. It seemed that whenever she put one in Kanan, he would spin around the room, yelling in Binary, "bwaa-aa mwop!"

 

She would take it out and try again. A different motivator, a different angle, retesting connections. If she could only get this to work then maybe he would be the Jedi she knew he could be. But Chopper kept coming into her room and yelling at her. She was only a child, and Chopper was so big and passionate and full of authority. "Stop messing around with that human! You care more about him than you do about Ryloth!"

 

Young Hera was crying in the dream when she finally broke free of its grasp, her lekku swinging forward as she sat up in her bunk. Grown Hera groaned and scrubbed at her face, trying to rid herself of the feelings of shame and anger.

 

The dream was a variation on an old childhood story. Hera's father was obsessed with freeing Ryloth, and that obsession had shaped her life for as long as she could remember. While she couldn't fault him, recognizing the root of her own drive, she also couldn't forget the fallout it caused. His insistence on Ryloth's struggle being her own had driven a wedge between them, and she had yet to find a way to move past it. Her subconscious kept bringing forth memories in different configurations unsatisfied with the status quo.  

 

And something else stirred deep in her psyche. Kanan’s appearance was a new variation. It niggled at the back of her mind, where quiet little voices struggled to find words for the significance of it. But like the dreams that triggered them, they had a tendency to slip from conscious thought when faced with the demands of being awake.

 

She glanced at the chronometer and sighed. Only an hour or so had passed since she laid down. 

 

Earlier in the day, they had been on Iloh. A contact had had data on Imperial fleet inventory. Hera had been so excited to dig into the intel that she told Kanan to rest while she took the first shift. But, by the time it was up, she needed to sleep. Badly. Exhaustion seemed to be a trigger for these particular dreams.  But now that she was awake again, Hera knew that rest would be elusive until she could settle her mind.

 

Swinging her feet over the side of her bunk, she considered her options.  The data was one possibility, but she wasn't sure she had the focus for that. She wanted to be alert enough to make sure she didn't miss anything while combing through it.

 

She could follow up on some correspondences. Hera was trying to negotiate with an underworld group on partnering on an actual op. The thought thrilled her. Not since their actions on Gorse had she and Kanan taken concrete steps against the Empire. These pirates' muscle might give them the edge.  One they would need to get some vital information that she had been lusting after for ages. 

 

When she spoke with Kanan about it, though, he was adamantly opposed. He was unwilling to risk so much with folks of questionable integrity. It was unfortunate. She could have used his skills. He had a knack for planning and on the fly thinking that she valued. But it sounded like he was in the "crew" camp for this operation.

 

Plus, working on such mentally stimulating ideas wasn't the smartest course of action if sleep was her ultimate goal. Routine operational tasks that required a minimal amount of concentration, like ship maintenance,  seemed the surest way to relax.

 

Staggering upright, she considered getting dressed but decided against it. She hoped to be back in her bunk shortly. The tank top and loose sleep pants would do. Her only concession to modesty was sliding a cap over her lekku.

 

Padding out to the hallway, Hera heard a noise that gave her pause. It was coming from the Phantom. She took a few steps aft, towards the common room, before cocking her head. She tried to make out what she was hearing.

 

Kanan's voice.

 

Singing.

 

Hera smiled. He was probably working on the Phantom's life support. She had mentioned it was overdue for a thorough cleaning. It sounded like he was deep in the Phantom's insides. It was dirty work since it went beyond a simple filter purge. Kanan would need to pull apart all the ductwork, scrub it, then reassemble it. A big project, perfect for hyperspace travel, and one that she had been avoiding. Having a crew had its pluses, even when they didn't want to commit to being revolutionaries.  

 

The singing was new. New to Hera at least. The things she knew about Kanan Jarrus could fit in the traveling bag he had brought with him when he joined the crew. She now knew his singing voice wasn't half bad. He was fluent in Huttese, understood Binary, and his Ryl was passable. He seemed to own no more than two shirts. He had a vast knowledge of places and cultures but seemed almost willfully ignorant of current events. He was a lush in a previous life yet was sober the entire time he’d been on the Ghost. He knew his way around a ship, but she had to explain the basics of the caf machine. He could be an outrageous flirt with everyone and their mother. He was fastidious about keeping the galley and his cabin clean but shed more than a Wookie in the fresher. He was quick to quip, but his smiles could seem too forced. She was learning which topics if strayed into, would bring a shadow across his face, and how he deflected by joking and changing the subject.

 

She knew all these things, but she also knew so little.  What were the sources of those shadows? Where did he come from? Was he a Jedi? How was he still alive?  

 

She pursed her lips and shook her head as she made her way towards the cockpit. Her thoughts still swirled around Kanan.

 

He had made it clear to her when he came on board that he wasn’t interested in her cause. It wasn’t personal, but she had no clue about what he did want. Intellectually she was okay that he didn’t share her views on the Empire, but part of her felt disheartened, and she couldn't pinpoint why. Perhaps if she knew him better - knew what was motivating him - it would ease her frustration.

 

He seemed to care about the same things she did. She had seen acts of kindness, of thoughtfulness, both on Gorse and on the Ghost. And she had also seen the ways he’d would shut down, turn a blind eye, feign indifference. She guessed there was a gaping wound within that he didn't want anyone to see. She could only squint and try to make out the edges of it, based on things he didn't say. She had to keep resolving not to take things personally when he distanced himself by being the "crew."  

 

Hera absently trailed her hand over Chopper's dome as she headed towards the pilot’s seat. He was powered down and recharging at his station. Only hyperspace blue and the cabin lights illuminated him.

 

She tucked her datapad under an elbow and started tapping at the pilot’s console, checking on the Ghost’s status, before she even sat down.  At least another 8 hours of hyperspace travel and all systems nominal. Kanan could keep an eye on the ship’s status while in the Phantom, and it was his responsibility right now. But the pilot in her couldn't resist checking in.

 

Hera fired up the diagnostics module and selected the hyperspace navigation one. Flying through hyperspace needed precise calculation. The tiniest margin of error could result in disaster. Keeping the engine meticulously calibrated was of utmost importance. Some diagnostics could be done anywhere. Others needed to run when they were planetside. But this particular one only worked when the hyperspace engine was engaged. It was also an irksome chore because it required intermittent user feedback. A series of questions and inputs needed her attention. Hera couldn't just switch it on and work on other things. She would need to babysit it, which is why she had her datapad handy to provide a distraction.

 

Hera double checked her charts, picked a starting coordinate, and entered it. The module would reconcile it with the hyperdrive's navigation component. Hearing the reassuring startup beep, she sat back and began reading Holonet messages on her datapad.

 

The galaxy still hadn't flown completely out of control despite everyone's best efforts. There was growing unrest on Mygeeto. Displaced refugees were flooding into peaceful systems. Workers were striking on Gilvaanen, where Stormtrooper armor was manufactured. Any disruption to equipping the growing army would pinch the Empire. They would respond with increasingly ruthless tactics. Just like what was happening on Ryloth at the moment, Hera noted.

 

She sighed. This was news, but it wasn't news. And it wasn't helping her mood. Why did people have to cause suffering? Why couldn't they just work together? She wondered. Maybe it was Hera’s ever persistent idealism.  Or perhaps her lack of sleep was at play. But the thought of unjust acts triggered a memory from earlier in her day.

 

Hera had met up with a contact, a man who worked in Imperial Navy operations as a contractor. He had promised information about fleet details. They had met on the waterfront of a small town on idyllic Iloh. The tourism on the island-studded planet was a natural cover. It hid the frequent comings and goings from all points in the galaxy.

 

Kanan had opted to go off on his own. She always included him in her activities. Sometimes he joined her and sometimes he did his own thing. She suspected his intuitive sense of whether the meetings would be dangerous informed his decisions. If he felt the need to be protective, he would linger with her. She didn't ask him why but carried on as if his decision didn't matter either way to her, because it didn't. Just another example of his lack of interest in the larger picture.

 

The handoff of the intel went off without a hitch. The data cube safely in Hera's palm and a murmured acknowledgment to her contact of the risks he had taken. The two had parted with a cryptic exchange of assurances of sharing more if possible. She turned to go when a speeder bike darting through traffic swerved. She only had a moment to react, jumping sideways into the stone wall that edged the quay.  The bike blazed on oblivious to her.

 

Hera, in turn, ignored the driver as she watched open mouthed as the cube slipped from her gloved fingers. It skittered across the stone wall, bounced off a ledge, and into the sea below. Her immediate reaction was panic. Panic at losing the information. About betraying all her contact had gone through to get this to her. It made it hard for her to make sense of what happened next.

 

Kanan had appeared at that exact moment, pushing two meilooruns into her hands.

 

"Hold this," he had said.

 

"What?" Hera asked still too dismayed to process.

 

"Hold it for safekeeping."

 

She noticed he was pulling his holster off his shoulder, the blaster still tucked in it. He hopped on one leg as he tugged at his boot.

 

"What?" She repeated herself.

 

She had glanced at the fruit in her arms then back to Kanan. He was continuing to undress, and she was trying to make sense of what was happening.  Her eyes snagged on his bare midriff, his shirt bunched around his shoulders as he tugged at it. Why was he stripping? She needed to figure out what to do about her botched op. Instead, she was cradling fruit and noticing the pattern of hair on his belly.

 

"It's for you. You mentioned you like meilooruns. And lucky for us, it's peak season here."

 

He was grinning.

 

And barechested. Hera knew it was no coincidence that he was shirtless in her dream. Real life had provided the inspiration.

 

Hera had stood there blinking. She knew she was staring. Was her mouth open? She hoped her contact was long gone, not wanting to be seen in such a state after tossing the data cube into the water. She struggled to string two coherent thoughts together.

 

But Kanan seemed to know what he was doing. He swung his arms, leaping onto the wall. She found herself watching the way the shadows shifted at the spot where his shoulder met his bicep. This observation competed in her head with the realization that he was retrieving the data cube. Like the sunlight dancing off the shifting waves, Kanan dove gracefully into the sea.

 

The water was clear in this inlet. While Hera could see the bottom, perhaps five meters below, she couldn't make out the data cube. Schools of tiny brilliant blue fish darted away from Kanan as he swam down with long smooth strokes. He tread in place when he reached the bottom, stirring up the sand as he looked for the device. Then he was ascending. When he broke the surface, his hand clenched the cube, a smile on his face.

 

Hera had let her breath out in a gasp, not realizing she had been holding it. He got the cube. It would need to be dried out, but it would be okay. She hadn’t betrayed her contact’s efforts. They would get insight into the Empire’s fleet. Another small victory.

 

And then Kanan had been standing next to her. Sea water running down him and his chest heaving as he caught his breath. On impulse, she embraced him, murmuring her gratitude, noticing minute details in her relief. How her clothes dampened at touching his still dripping body. How solid he felt when she pulled him close, the meilooruns awkwardly between them. She was close enough to see water drops clinging to his eyelashes. She tasted salt after her lips brushed against his wet shoulder.

 

They had walked back to the Ghost afterward, in a slow companionable silence. Kanan walked stiffly, his pants soggy and his feet bare. Hera hugged a meiloorun in each arm with the data cube safely tucked away in a pocket.

 

Something had happened on the waterfront, but it was without a name. Hera sensed rather than heard the gently restrained susurrations of the quiet little voices.

 

The diagnostics module beeped, prompting Hera for another value and pulling her out of her reveries. She took a deep breath and slowly released it. Sleep was at least an hour away as the calibration would take that long to ensure a decent set of inputs. Reading about the Empire’s activities or musing on perplexing Kanan actions wasn’t helping her mood.

 

Maybe if she…

 

She bit her lip considering, then cocked her head listening. Hera could still hear Kanan’s muffled singing in the Phantom. Before she could change her mind, she looked through a list of holovids that she had tucked away on her datapad and pulled one up. She entered one more calibration value for the module on the console. Scooting further down in her chair, she spread her feet wide on the dash in front of her.

 

Masturbation was not something she would normally do in the cockpit. Well, not since Kanan had come aboard at least, and certainly not in front of Chopper. But a little stress release sounded like what she needed. This maintenance work needed babysitting, and she was alone for the moment. Just Hera, her hand, and a little bit of a prompt.

 

Ryloth’s local holovid scene was dead after years of wars and occupations, so Hera’s prompt of choice was dated. If she had been in her bunk, she would have forgone the video and gone straight to her vibrator. But for obvious reasons she didn’t want it to leave the privacy of her room. Without a manual jump start, she reasoned a little visual foreplay was in order. Or would be until her imagination kicked in.

 

Ryloth at one time was famous for its holovids. Twi’leks were big on song and dance numbers, but the one that Hera had in mind was more of an experimental piece. With an entirely Twi’leki cast and themes of significance to Ryloth, the Empire had banned it years ago. It was an old story, a romance, about a blurrgherder who falls for the chieftain's daughter. The costumes were dated, and the camera shots were trying too hard. But there was one love scene that still got to Hera whenever she watched it. She skipped to it.

 

In the scene, the chieftain's daughter has just learned the man’s true identity. Yet she still loves him and tries to seduce him until he caves and they make passionate love. The director shot it more explicitly than an ordinary holovid. It still managed to be tasteful enough that all but the most prudish could watch without objection. And Twi’leks, in general, weren't a prudish bunch.

 

After listening for signs of activity in the Phantom, Hera shifted her focus to finding her pleasure. She slipped her hand down her pants. Parting her knees, she reached between her thighs and began stroking herself. Her fingers made slow circular movements.

 

In the holovid, the heroine reached out to caress her blurrgherder’s lek. She drew it across her lips, her tongue licking the tip of it. Her eyes never leaving his. A spasm of intense pleasure washed over his face. Hera smiled at the man’s reaction. She was sure her face would look the same if someone caressed her lekku like that.

 

The blurrgherder was still holding back, though. The chieftain's daughter was working hard to break through his resolve. She tipped her face towards his. The camera lingered on their lips, nearly touching. Only a hair's breadth of space between them. The anticipation was delicious. Who would yield first, leaning in to close the distance? Hera always knew it would be the woman. The man still doubted he could be in a relationship.

 

But he wasn't above returning the kiss.

 

For all his restraint, he was in love, and that kind of passion couldn't be hidden from a kiss. It was intense and raw, gentle and honest. But it was the close-up shot on the man’s hand, gripping the table that made Hera's knees weak. His barely constrained desire almost heartbreaking in the whites of his knuckles. A deep vibration of a hum emanated from Hera’s throat. She closed her eyes and continued her slow circular motions with her fingers.

 

A gasp made Hera open her eyes. It came from the woman as the man roughly pulled her to his chest. He had been holding back, and the woman’s boldness had finally broken something in him.  _ Yes! More. Please. _ Hera thought.

 

She closed her eyes again content to listen to their ragged breathing as she worked on herself. Her hand continued its motion before dipping lower. Finding the wetness that signaled her heightened arousal. She didn’t need to watch to know what came next. The holovid and the sounds were familiar enough to complete the images in her mind.

 

The rustle of clothing being shed.

 

The creak of the bed.

 

The breathy sighs that accompanied penetration.

 

In her mind’s eye, Hera could see the chieftain's daughter nude, sitting on the blurrgherder’s lap. Blue skin on orange. Their eyes locked. The eye contact alone took Hera to another level. Her increasing desire matched the lovers’ as they started their slow pulsing dance.  _ Stars! _ She wanted this.

 

The woman was cupping her lover’s face in her hands, thumbs brushing against his goatee. Teal-blue eyes gazed into hers. His ponytail brushed against his bare shoulders in time to their rhythmic movements.

 

Hera froze.

 

That was not the Twi’lek from the holovid in her head. That was someone else she knew.

 

Kanan.

 

Kriff!

 

Somehow he had intruded on her memories of this scenario. Hera cracked an eye open. She could still hear him singing and banging on the ductwork. A flush of heat crossed her cheeks. It had nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with embarrassment. He was a partner, an employee even, not the object of lust. Of course, she had noticed he was attractive. But that didn't mean he was something to get off to.

 

Sighing she tried to reset her thoughts, shifting back to the holovid. In this part hands were roaming everywhere and momentum was building. Breasts were cupped, hips were gripped, lips were bruised. Feet slid over bedsheets as both lovers tried to find purchase, increasing their tempo. She was still on his lap, legs encircling his hips. His arms wrapped around her back, pulling her down to him. Hera took it in with a long hungry look before turning it off. She had enough visuals and could take it from here. Her hand was slippery with inspiration.

 

But her mind was not cooperating. Instead of the blue on orange skin, she imagined green on tan. Not two pairs of lekku intermingling, but a beard tickling a neck. It was Kanan’s fingers that dug into hips. His throaty moans she heard. Not Twi’leki endearments but murmured Basic in a rich, Outer Rim drawl.

 

Hera pursed her lips and paused her movements, surprised that Fantasy Kanan had come back. But her eyes remained shut. She struggled for a moment with moral indecision. Yet for whatever reason, it was working. She felt more turned on than she had in a long time. She knew what she wanted. To feed the lust that was growing in her. To get off to the erotic ideas her brain was generating.

 

She started making a case. Kanan couldn’t read her mind, she reasoned. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Plus Hera needed her sleep, and this was what was working for her right now. She knew how flimsy those excuses might sound to Ordinary Hera, but Aroused Hera was calling the shots.

 

She ignored the quiet little voices that were whispering things she didn't want to hear.

 

Allowing herself that freedom, unleashed a flood of thoughts as she worked her clitoris.  Memories of living, breathing Kanan sprang to mind.

 

_ The moment when Hera came up with a crazy idea, and he stopped and thought about it. His eyes narrowed, brows drawn. Biting his lip, making little indentations with his teeth.   _

 

_ The crooked grin he gave while handing her the meilooruns. The hint of doubt that kept him from committing to a full smile. A peak of someone much younger and hopeful showing through. _

 

_ Leaning over the table in the common room, cleaning his blaster. His hair slipping loose from the ponytail and cascading around his face, hiding his features. The slight wave at the end, where it had been restrained by the tie. The way it fluttered away from his face with each exhalation _

 

_ A half nude Kanan springing off the wall and diving into the sea revealing a grace, not of this galaxy. Small flashes of white on his skin, scars from unspoken wounds. Testimony to his vulnerability. _

_ A fractured catwalk crashing to the side, as the Forager was pummeled by torpedos. His finger brushed her lips, his mouth whispering hush, asking her to keep his secret. _

 

_ The look he sometimes directed at her. The one right before he realized she was watching. Right before he returned his face to something practiced and neutral.  _

 

_ The innumerable times their bodies brushed together. Whispers of contact. Sliding past each other in the galley. In the cockpit. In the cargo hold. Intimately familiar. Achingly close. Yet not. _

 

The holovid and her imagination forged new fantasies in her mind. Hera sitting on Kanan’s lap. His hands working on her hips. His mouth on her breasts. His cock buried in her. 

 

Real Hera began rolling her hips in time to Fantasy Hera’s movement. Her breath was heavy and in sync with the mental doppelganger. In her head, Kanan made small noises of desire that set her off even more. Her real hand was making small quick movements, finding the spots that would push her ever closer. A lek found it’s way into her grasp, where she rolled the tip between her fingers, triggering new waves of erotic energy. Her hips thrust up and off the pilot chair. The datapad fell with a clatter to the floor unnoticed.

 

She was grinding against Fantasy Kanan, seeking his release, knowing it would push her over. And then he was gripping her shoulders hard, crying out as his orgasm shook them. Clutching her to his chest. Holding her down on his hips. It was what she needed, what she wanted. Real Hera's back arched. Her hips lifted clear of the chair, as she came with him.   

 

The waves of pleasure coursed through her for several long moments. She felt safe, satiated, and thoroughly fucked. Hera lay limp in the chair, breathing hard. Her hand, still inside her pants, cupping herself.

 

She allowed herself a moment of wonder at the intensity of what just occurred, before guilt set in. If the potency of her orgasm was any indication, she should have no problems with sleep. Except she was left with some very confusing thoughts.

 

It was hard to deny that she was attracted to Kanan. Not when the idea of doing him blew her mind that way. But what did that mean? What was going on? She couldn’t be falling for him, could she? Was she just mentally using him for his body? Or was she feeling something more?

 

The quiet little voices spoke up. Hera frowned and shook her head, swallowing what-ifs and I-wonders before they could blossom further, leaving silence in their wake.

 

Silence.

 

Hera froze. She realized she hadn’t heard Kanan in some time. The Real Kanan who should have still been singing in the Phantom. How long had it been? She mentally backtracked trying to recall the last time she had heard his voice.

 

The sound of footsteps on the cargo hold ladder, caused her to yank her hand out of her pants and sit upright. Kanan’s head popped through the hatch and scanned the cockpit.  His eyes brightened upon seeing her. “You’re awake!”

 

Hera thought quickly. He had started out in the Phantom. He would have had to have gone down through the common room to come up from below. Had he heard anything while passing through? How loud had she been? Did he know what she had been doing?

 

“Mm-hmm,” she said, not willing to trust her voice.

 

“I thought you were asleep. I heard something and came to investigate.”

 

“That might have been me. Dropped my datapad.” Hera cringed at how sultry her voice sounded. She bent to retrieve it off the floor.

 

“Oh. You ok?”

 

“Fine. Fine.” She bit her lip and kept her eyes forward, afraid to look at him. She felt heat rising on her cheeks as she remembered how she had ridden him in her in mind.

 

“Alright…” He didn’t sound convinced.  “I’m making some caf. Want some?”

 

“No. Thanks. I’m going to finish this.” She waved her hand at the controls in front of her, still avoiding eye contact, “Then try to get back to sleep.”

 

Hera jumped as his hand fell to her shoulder. “Dreams?” he asked.

 

Hera looked up at him at this. She gave him a small smile and chuffed, glad for the out. It was true that a dream was why she was sitting here. But her awkwardness had far more to do with what her mind imagined the two of them doing together. “Yeah.”

 

He nodded and squeezed her shoulder before turning to get his caf. 

 

She sighed, wondering if she looked as flustered as she felt.

 

When Kanan returned, Hera was entering yet more coordinates into the console. She felt a nudge on her arm. Turning, Kanan pressed a bowl of sliced meiloorun into her hands. Taking it, she glanced up at him. He held a bowl for himself as well, smiling at her, before settling in his usual spot in the copilot’s chair.

 

The only warning Hera had that something was amiss was the ache growing in her throat.  She was moved by a poignancy she didn’t understand, and it threatened to come out in tears. The melon had become a gesture of kindness, one that blindsided her. A considerate recognition of her preferences. A comfort after a bad dream. And she knew it would be forever tied to the rescue of the data cube for her - a symbol of unconditional support.

 

A slew of thoughts sped through her mind.

 

_ Her dream with her father. _

 

_ Kanan bringing her fruit on the waterfront. _

 

_ The things he had done in her fantasies. _

 

_ His innocent smile at this moment.   _

 

The old familiar sadness of feeling unseen and the new sweetness of being recognized. A natural kindness that Hera didn't realize she needed, coupled with the old ache of longing. Hera choked back the sudden emotion. She pressed her lips together to hold in the upwelling of feelings. It still came out when her shoulders hitched.

 

But Kanan noticed. “Hey, you ok?”

 

Hera kept her mouth firmly shut, knowing that if she tried to speak, a full sob would emerge. So she just nodded, her face down.

 

“That dream must have been a doozy.”

 

Hera remained mute and focused on her breathing. Eventually, she felt a measure of control and took a bite of her fruit. She couldn't taste it, though. After a moment of eating, she tried her voice. “Thank you. The gesture. It caught me off guard.” She risked a peek at Kanan.

 

He seemed embarrassed. “That’s what friends do, right? Do things for each other?”

 

“Yeah. They do,” Hera murmured.

 

They considered each other’s needs and accepted differences. Kanan’s actions contrasted with her father's.  Kanan’s unassuming thoughtfulness vs. Cham’s insistence. The thought nearly brought another sob forth.

 

But it also made her see the way she was falling in Cham’s footsteps. How she was putting her crusade above her relationships. And now that she saw it she couldn’t do it, not to Kanan, not when he was willing to try to be a friend.

 

She glanced at him again. He was studying his fruit, slowly chewing the melon, giving her space to process. She couldn’t help but notice the stubble on his cheek and the way the muscles in his jaw moved as he chewed. The angles of his cheek and the line of his nose. Hera was aware of the urge to touch what she saw. To kiss where her eyes landed. To wrap her arms around him and hold the feeling that was emerging.

 

The quiet little voices were speaking again, and this time, Hera listened.

 

_ Friend? _ They asked.

 

_ Yes _ . She said.

 

_ Lover?  _ They asked.

 

_ Maybe. Perhaps. Possibly.  _ She said.

 

Once she addressed these voices, their hold lessened. As if they were satisfied they had been heard. Hera didn’t need to figure anything out right this moment. She could sleep on it before acting on it. But the idea was out in the open now, and it wasn’t as shocking as she had made it out to be.

 

There would be time later to allow the quiet little voices to speak.

 

_ Maybe. Perhaps. Possibly. _

 

She smiled into her meiloorun.

**Author's Note:**

> There might have been a song involved (isn't there always).
> 
> And probably chats with Cyndermizuki.
> 
> This is first in the series but was written after the second work (Ardor - first posted on Tumblr and coming to AO3 soon). A third and final chapter piece is in progress.


End file.
